


An Us in Every World, in Every Story

by MelikaElena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AUs, Collection of AUs, M/M, Who knows how many will be in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Minty AUs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minty Enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> Ella Enchanted AU
> 
> I normally refer to Nathan Miller as "Miller" but since this is Ella Enchant-ified, I had to tweak it a bit.

Nate wouldn’t look at Monty. He kept his face resolutely turned to the floor, fists clenched, hoping against hope that Monty wouldn’t recognize him in his stained, dirty servant’s garb. But that was a useless hope– Monty would know him anywhere, and if the situation was reversed, Nate would know him, too. **  
**

“Nate,” Monty said, voice soft and pleading. “What– why are you dressed like this?” Monty had only seen him, mere hours before, at his birthday ball, resplendent in finery that used to be Nate’s father’s. Everything had been going so smoothly– Nate had only wanted to see Monty one last time without Monty realizing it, and he would’ve gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for his stepbrother, who tore away Nate’s mask in a jealous rage. 

“Don’t mind him, Your Highness,” Duke Charles Pike– Miller’s stepfather– said dismissively. “It’s just our man servant, Miller.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Monty insisted over his shoulder, in a tone sharper than Nate had ever heard him. “It’s Nate.” Monty turned back to him. “I don’t understand,” he said softly. “Your letters– I thought that you were _married._ ”

Nate flinched, thinking of how he’d lied to Monty to keep him safe; to keep the whole kingdom safe. He knew that he’d hurt Monty deeply with his lies, that Monty thought him a liar, a fake, the worst kind of fraud, but Nate had no choice. He couldn’t subject Monty to him as a husband, as a consort. It would ruin them both.

“Leave it alone, Your Highness,” he muttered, still unable to look at Monty’s pale, tense face.

“Monty,” begged the prince. “My name is Monty. I– was it all a lie? Are you married? Tell me the truth.”

An order. Nate clenched his teeth, but he began to feel lightheaded almost immediately from resisting. “I’m not married. It was a lie.”

He darted a look up; Monty’s eyes were closed, his jaw tight, warring between relief, confusion, and despair. “I don’t understand. Why did you lie to me?”

This wasn’t an order, which was good, because Nate couldn’t tell him about his curse– he had promised his father that when he was a young boy, and it was a promise– an order– that he couldn’t break, even if he wanted to. “For your own good,” Nate said simply.

“Did you– do you–” Monty’s breath hitched. “Do you love me? Tell me honestly.”

Nate’s fists were clenched so tightly that his fingernails were digging into the soft flesh of his palm. He felt lightheaded; he felt like he was going to throw up. He counted as high as he could to delay telling him, but his lungs seized up, as though he was holding his breath and was about to suffocate. And no matter how hard he wished and prayed that this would be the moment he would break the curse, it was to no avail. With a shuddering gasp, Nate said, “ _Yes. I love you.”_

Monty had been looking at him in alarm, but that was dashed instantly by Nate’s words. “Then marry me!” His voice rang out, jubilant. “Marry me, Nate.”

An order. It wasn’t a question, a request. It was a command. Nate could barely revel in Monty’s happiness because he felt ill again. “I–”

“Marry him, Nate,” Pike said, a greedy gleam in his eyes as he claimed his stepson. “Think of all the good it will bring to our family.”

“Marry him,” said Graham, Pike’s son and Nate’s stepbrother, with a smirk, “and give me all your money.”

Monty didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge them, and Nate knew what Monty was thinking: didn’t they know that Nate was one of the most stubborn, headstrong people they knew? But Monty knew a different Nate, one that, for all he knew, wasn’t saddled with a curse that made him be obedient. Monty didn’t know that if he married Nate and if someone found out about his curse, Nate could be made to do terrible and awful things. He couldn’t let that happen.

Nate looked at Monty, eyes pleading. Monty deserved– Monty deserved nothing but happiness. He deserved to be loved. He deserved to have someone who made sure he wasn’t thinking too hard, who made sure that his interests and welfare was being considered, who made sure people wouldn’t take advantage of his kind heart and brilliant mind. Nate wanted to be that person for him– so desperately– but he knew he couldn’t, not with the way he was. He loved Monty more than anyone else in the world, but he had to let him go.

His body shuddering outright now from not giving a reply, Nate slid to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up. Monty crouched down next to him, put a hand on his shoulder, but Nate was too lost in the world of himself. Memories of his life flew by in his mind– his father, tall and strong and proud; his mother, frail but kind; meeting Monty at his father’s funeral, tearful and angry; being sent away to boarding school and meeting Graham and Bellamy; Graham demanding he hand over his father’s beloved pocket watch; Bellamy becoming his best friend; and then having Graham demand that he end their friendship because Bellamy was beneath them socially; Nate running away and finding that his mother was going to marry Graham’s father; hiding from the fairy who cursed him and running into Monty; dancing alone in a room, hidden from the crowd; Monty’s arms; his mother dying and feeling alone, his secret found out by his step family and being reduced to a servant; the only comforts he has left were Monty’s letters; Monty laughing; Monty dying by his own hand–

“ _No_!” He burst out, jumping to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “I won’t marry the prince!”

His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might burst. Relief swept through him so much Nate thought he might have to sit down again. Monty was safe from him, once and for all.

Graham started to laugh. “You have to marry him,” he cackled. “We all told you to!”

Very quietly, beside him, Monty said, “He doesn’t have to marry me if he doesn’t want to.”

Miller turned to him, his dark eyes blazing. “Of course I want to marry you, but I can’t,” he said, and he took Monty in his arms, large hands coming up to frame his dear face. “I love you,” he rasped, and then he kissed him, long and slow and deep.

Monty gasped and clung to him, long fingers clutching at Miller’s biceps. Then he broke away. “But why–?”

“I’m cursed,” Nate said, the words pouring out of him. “I’m cursed and I’m a danger to you. Marrying me would only bring you–” he broke off, because it occurred to him: he was telling Monty about the curse. He had defied marrying him. That meant… “Oh, my god.”

“What?” Monty demanded, confused and bewildered and irritated. “Marrying you would only bring me happiness, always.”

“It would,” Nate said slowly. “Oh, my god. Monty. I’m _free_.”

Monty blinked. “What?” He said again. “Nate, I–”

Nate, grinning at how cute Monty looked when confused (which didn’t happen very often,) took Monty’s hands in his, and then, in one smooth motion, got on one knee. “When you asked me to marry you five minutes ago,” he said, “I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t able to. But now that I know that I can love you and honor you the way you deserve, I don’t want to wait another minute. Monty, will you marry me?”

A smile broke across Monty’s face and it was like watching the sun come out. “Get up here,” he said, tugging at Nate’s hands. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want to waste any more time either. We’ve been apart long enough. Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Nate laughed, cradling Monty’s face in his hands again. “I’ll explain it to you later,” he murmured, sweeping his lips across Monty’s again. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Monty said, words cut off by Nate’s kiss.

Needless to say, they lived happily ever after.


	2. to wake up next to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: consider this, if your OTP was the couple in the cute ass after surgery video, who would be the one high on meds that doesn’t recognize the other but still thinks they’re the most gorgeous thing they’ve ever seen.

When Miller opens his eyes, the edges of his vision are fuzzy. He blinks a few times, trying to clear it. He’s in… the hospital? In a bed?

“Hey,” comes a voice to his right.

Miller turns his head and has to blink again, not out of a blurriness of vision, but just to make sure that what he’s actually seeing is real, which is the cutest boy– err, man– he’s ever seen. Hands down. For sure. 10/10 would recommend visually.

“Hey,” he croaks out, trying to be smooth. He doesn’t know who this boy is or why he’s here, but Miller isn’t going to ask questions.

The man, with shaggy dark hair and bright eyes, gets Miller some water. “How’re you feeling?”

Miller drinks the water and then gives him what he hopes is a charming, flirty smile, despite the fact that he thinks he got surgery in his abdomen somewhere, his mouth is probably stale as hell, and he’s probably on a cocktail of drugs. “Pretty damn good with you next to me.”

The man rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, too. A good sign. “I can see that you must not be in too much pain if you’re flirting with me,” he says.

Miller stops for a moment, frowns, because wait, flirting with men is _bad._ Because– because he has a boyfriend. Who he loves. Very much.

The man notices Miller’s frown right away and sits up straighter, taking Miller’s hand. “Nate?” He says. “What is it? You okay? You need me to call a nurse?”

“I’m sorry,” Miller says, snatching his hand out from underneath the man’s, feeling guilty at the confused knitting of his eyebrows and the unsure, hurt look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Nate?” The man asks again, softly, but he doesn’t reach for him again.

“I– You’re very handsome,” Miller blurts out. “I– you’re like, possibly the cutest guy I’ve ever seen– but I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.”

The man blinks. “What?” He manages.

“I have a boyfriend,” Miller says firmly, although he has the strangest suspicion that he’s also slurring his words. “I have a boyfriend and his name is Monty, and, well, I love him. A lot.”

“You– you do?”

“Yep,” Miller nods emphatically, and then winces. Not a good idea. “A lot. He doesn’t– I haven’t told him yet- but I do. I love him a lot. Do you know where he is? Not that you aren’t cute, too, but, well, I _miss_ him, and I just want him to take me home and cuddle on the couch with me while he puts on a book-to-film movie and yells about how inaccurate it all is.”

The handsome man smiles. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

Miller nods, more slowly this time. “I really do,” he confirms.

“Well,” the man stands. “How about this? You go back to sleep, and I’ll go find him, and hopefully when you wake up, he’ll, uh– he’ll be here.”

“Really?” Miller brightens. “That’s nice of you.”

“Considering you just rejected me?” The man says with a wry smile. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”

Miller’s already drifting back to sleep, as he was told to do. “That movie sucked,” he murmurs. “Monty _hated_ it.”

“ _The Giver?_ ” The man asks incredulously, but Miller’s already too far gone to hear that.

…And to feel warm lips on his forehead, a fond, amused chuckle in his ear, and a whispered, “I love you, too, Nate.”

It’s okay, Monty thinks, as he settles back into his chair. He’ll just tell Miller when he wakes up.


	3. Minty Christmas AUs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a collection of Christmas AU prompts from Tumblr! 
> 
> This prompt: "we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…"

The battle was brutal, and the fact that the conditions were icy wasn’t helping at all. Monty couldn’t feel his toes anymore and wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not. How much longer would he have to suffer through this? When would it _finally_ be over? He knew Bellamy and Clarke– they wouldn’t surrender even if the cold had taken every one of their fingers and toes. Monty couldn’t even be angry at them; after all, it was his own fault. 

Why, in all that was good and right in this world, did he suggest having a snowball fight? 

Their Christmas breaks were long, and after two weeks holed up with their respective families, everyone was going a little stir crazy, so for their last week before the new semester began, Wells and Clarke came up with the idea to traipse up to Wells’ family’s cabin and hang out there. Monty was glad; he loved his parents, but his mother in particular was driving him crazy, and he missed everyone– in many ways, they were his family, too. 

Watching movies and drinking spiked cocoa and wine and playing board and video games was awesome, but people were starting to get a little restless, too. A couple of them skied and snowboarded, but not everyone, and so Monty thought having a fun snowball fight would require little skill that everyone could partake in. 

“You sure about this?” Miller had asked as they laced up their snow boots, eyebrows raised. 

“What do you mean?” Monty said, clearing his throat, willing his cheeks not to flush. Nathan Miller was a newer addition to their friend group in many ways– he and Bellamy had grown up together, but Miller had gone to a different college his first two years, transferring to their college his junior year after a bad break-up. He’d only been in their group for a few months, and the good thing was that he fit in perfectly, to Bellamy’s delight; that bad thing was that Monty had the hugest fucking crush on him, and no clue what to do about it, if he should do anything at all. They were friends, too, and had just started to flirt with each other a little bit, but Monty didn’t know if Miller really liked him that way.

“Clarke and Bellamy,” he said, gesturing to their two friends. Clarke was giving Bellamy a particularly smug look, and Bellamy was rolling his eyes. “They’ve declared themselves team captains. They’re such competitive assholes, especially against each other. This is going to get ugly fast.” 

Monty shrugged. “Oh, that’s true,” he said, “but I’ve learned that once everyone is tired, they’ll stop, and then if Bellamy and Clarke keep going that’s their problem.” 

Miller snorted. “Fair,” he said. 

Clarke and Bellamy, arms crossed over their chests, picked their teams with all of the seriousness of High School Kickball (read: very serious,) and Monty felt a twinge of disappointment as he was split from both Jasper and Miller. He was on Clarke’s team, with Lincoln, Raven, Maya, and Monroe; Bellamy’s team had himself, Octavia, Wells, Jasper, Harper, and Miller. 

Clarke and Bellamy had a lot of differences, but their leadership and strategic styles were strikingly similar, so it was no surprise that in their respective group huddles, they both separately demanded that each person assign themselves to another person to focus their efforts on. Everyone rolled their eyes, and promptly tuned out their jabbering leaders, but picked a person on the opposing team to guard, anyway. 

No one was surprised that Octavia and Lincoln picked each other, as did Wells and Raven, Jasper and Maya, and Clarke and Bellamy, of course. Monty didn’t know if he should pick Harper, who he _previously_ dated, or Miller, who he _wanted_ to date, until Monroe, with a wink, took pity on him and said she’d guard Harper (she herself wanted to date Harper, so Monty didn’t think Monroe’s motives were entirely altruistic, but he appreciated it nonetheless.)

So here they were, in the thick of battle: Octavia had climbed onto Lincoln’s back and was trying to shove snow down Lincoln’s back, but he was spinning them around in circles so rapidly that Octavia couldn’t focus, and they were both laughing instead; Jasper and Maya had abandoned the game a while ago to build a “snow fort” for their respective teams, but instead joined forces to build a snow person; at first, Raven genuinely wanted to pelt Wells with snow balls, but he kept eluding her, and ended up sneaking up on _her_ , and instead of throwing snow at her, he backed her up against a tree, and took the opportunity, after months of flirting and dancing around each other, to kiss her; Harper and Monroe had both viciously gone after each other in the beginning, making Monty glad he hadn’t called Harper after all– after pelting each other mercilessly until they were cold and soaked, they called a cease-fire, and were now making snow angels, side-by-side. Only Clarke and Bellamy were taking it truly seriously, and were doing everything from climbing trees to hiding behind sheds to get the upper hand on the other person. They were truly ridiculous. 

As for Monty and Miller, Miller had given Monty one dark, warning look at the beginning of the game, but otherwise hadn’t done much, which made Monty even more nervous– neither took their eyes off the other throughout the game, but they didn’t make any moves, either. Monty felt a little bit like prey that was getting stalked. 

Tired and cold, he let his guard down, and became distracted. The next thing he knew, Miller was nowhere to be seen, and Monty figured he was back at the house, bored with the game. Monty felt a little disappointed at that, but understood; plus, a hot shower _did_ sound nice, so he slipped away from the group to head back to the house, until Monty felt something slam into him from the side. He ended up on his back, the wind knocked out of him– the next thing he knew, he was blinking up into Miller’s dark eyes. 

“Trying to get away from me, Green?” Miller murmured. 

Monty gaped at him. “You’re actually _playing_? I thought you were just bluffing the whole time!” 

“Nah,” Miller said, his arms bracketed around Monty’s head, their legs tangled together in the snow. “Just biding my time for the right moment.” 

“I thought you left the game,” Monty confessed. “And were back at the house.” 

Miller shifted a little and it took everything for Monty not to groan. “Is that why you were going back?” Miller asked lowly. “Because I was there?” 

It was the most direct Miller had ever been with him, and Monty didn’t know what to say. He stared at him, and Miller stared right back, his eyes dark, expectant. Patient, but… _hungry_. For Monty. 

“What would you say?” Monty whispered, “If I said _yes_?” 

Miller leaned closer, his eyes closing, dark, long lashes brushing Monty’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t _say_ anything at all, baby,” he murmured, his lips meeting Monty’s. 

Monty felt his stomach swoop as they kissed, and although his cap had been knocked off, his back and hair cold and soaking, the front of his body was all warmth and fire as he wrapped his arms around Miller, holding him closer as they kissed. It was only a few minutes later as a shiver wracked Monty’s body, both from Miller and the cold, did they both pull back. “I was gonna go take a shower,” Monty said, feeling bold. “Get warm. Wanna join?” 

Miller leaned back, untangling himself from Monty. He held out a hand to Monty and pulled him up, but instead of pulling away, he tangled their fingers together. “I’d like nothing more,” he said, already tugging him toward the house, Monty following behind with a goofy grin on his face. 


	4. jaws was never my scene, and i don't like star wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Caitlyn, for my Thanks-for-Following-Me-on-Tumblr-Here-Have-a-Fic Thing: PROMPT: my friend can’t stop talking about how they want to set me up with their other friend so we start texting each other and they’re hilarious but shy about meeting and ALSO there’s a cute bike delivery guy who brings my mail at work and winks at me whenever i sign for a package (surprise! they're the same person) AU

“His name’s Monty.” 

 

Miller waited. 

 

And waited. 

 

He gave in. “Uh, okay.” He raised an eyebrow. “ _ And?” _

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow in return. “And what? His name’s Monty. Here’s his number.” 

 

It had been a nice day today-- his coworkers weren’t being too big of dicks; it was finally dark past six o’clock; and his beer was good, so instead of falling back on his usual surliness, Miller veered into amusement instead. “You know,” he said, “I had been expecting a more effusive recommendation for this guy than this.” 

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ve tried that with you before with other guys and you always found some stupid thing about them to talk yourself out of texting them,” she said. “So I’m done doing the hard work for you. Talk to them  _ yourself  _ and figure out why you don’t want to text them.” 

 

“Well, that’s no fun,” Miller complained. “Not to mention complicated.” 

 

Clarke leveled him with a stare that reminded him eerily of Raven. “If you don’t text Monty, you’re missing out,” she said bluntly. “All you need to know is that he’s great and I wouldn’t steer you wrong, okay?” 

 

Miller opened his mouth to respond with something snarky, but then shut it. Well, that was true. Clarke could be an overbearing bitch sometimes, but her heart was in the right place, and even if her own dating life was a complete disaster, she could pretty clearly see other people’s. 

 

“Fine,” he grunted. “Give me his number.” 

 

* * *

 

**From Nate (8:10PM)**

_ Hey _

_ This is Nate _

_ Clarke’s friend _

_ She gave me your number?  _

 

**From Monty (8:12PM)**

_ Hey!  _

_ Yeah, she told me she was going to  _

_ Um _

_ How are you?  _

 

**From Nate (8:14PM)**

_ Good _

_ Awkward  _

 

**From Monty (8:15PM)**

_ Ha! _

_ Same _

_ It could be worse, I guess _

_ This could be in PERSON _

 

**From Nate (8:16PM)**

_ I’ll be fully honest-- when you said that _

_ I cringed  _

  
  


**From Monty (8:24PM)**

_ An introvert’s worst nightmare  _

_ I get it  _

_ This is meeting my social interaction  _

_ quota for the evening _

_ So I don’t feel too guilty for sitting in my PJs _

_ And watching Bob’s Burgers on Netflix  _

 

**From Nate (8:25PM)**

_ Ideal Friday night situation, imo _

_ I love Bob’s Burgers _

_ Did you hear they’re taking that off Netflix?  _

 

**From Monty (8:26PM)**

_ WHAT? NO!!!!!  _

_ What the flying fuck  _

 

**From Nate (8:27PM)**

_ It’s a fucking tragedy _

_ They’re pulling a bunch of shows _

_ Focusing on original content, I think _

_ Which-- if it’s like Sense8, fine _

_ If it’s like Iron Fist, they can go fuck themselves _

 

**From Monty (8:28PM)**

_ I have so many opinions _

_ About both those shows _

_ I don’t even know where to start  _

 

**From Nate (8:29PM)**

_ Lucky for you _

_ I’m also doing nothing _

_ We have all the time in the world  _

 

* * *

 

“Package for… Nathan Miller?” 

 

“Miller!” Murphy called, bored, not looking up. “Package for you.” 

 

Miller scowled as he came to the front desk. “You can sign it for me,” he said pointedly to Murphy. “It’s part of your  _ job? _ ” 

 

Murphy ignored him. 

 

“Any interest in switching careers?” Miller muttered to the messenger as he signed for the package, giving the messenger a flicker of an apologetic smile. His smile froze for a second as he handed back the slip and pen. 

 

The guy was  _ cute _ , there was no denying that, dark, shaggy hair, bright smile, and in his bike attire, it was evident that this guy had  _ insane  _ thighs, holy  _ shit _ . The nametag on his shirt read  _ Jasper _ . “Heh, my mother would be thrilled,” he said, “three career moves in a year. But I think I’ll stick with this for now.” 

 

Miller snorted, despite his curiosity at the other man’s statement. “Let me know if you change your mind.” 

 

Jasper laughed. “I will,” he said. “Have a good day!” He said, turning around. 

 

Miller couldn’t help himself-- he definitely checked out if those bike shorts made his ass look as good as his thighs (they did.) “Yeah,” he said. “You, too.” 

 

* * *

 

**From Monty (10:34PM)**

_ Hear me out here-- _

_ ANH _

_ ESB _

_ ROJ _

_ TFA _

_ RO _

_ ROS _

_ AOC _

_ PM _

 

**From Miller (10:36PM)**

_ That’s MOSTLY right _

_ But why are you kidding yourself _

_ Empire Strikes Back > A New Hope _

 

**From Monty (10:38PM)**

_ Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong  _

_ Nate!! _

_ How can you go wrong with the one that  _

_ STARTED EVERYTHING  _

_ I mean, come on _

 

**From Miller (10:40PM)**

_ Everything about ESB is better  _

_ It gets to the heart and soul of the story _

_ ANH is a lot of set-up _

 

**From Monty (10:42PM)**

_ We need to watch the movies and see _

 

**From Miller (10:43PM)**

_ Haven’t you seen the movies like, 27 times, _

_ According to you watch?  _

 

**From Monty (10:45PM)**

_ Well, YEAH _

_ But not with YOU _

 

* * *

 

Miller and Monty had been texting for weeks now, mostly platonically. Sometimes it veered into flirting, and Miller was totally on board, but the idea of meeting face-to-face, even if he knew he liked Monty as a person? It freaked him out. 

 

Not to mention… he  _ might’ve  _ also been engaging in a little real-life flirting, too, with someone who  _ wasn’t  _ Monty.

 

Jasper the Bike Messenger came by at least twice a week with packages, and just  _ maybe  _ Miller timed it so that he was always on his way out for a coffee break when Jasper came by, just so they could chat and then walk out together. Maybe it was a little obvious (especially judging by Murphy’s judgmental, snarky comments,) but Miller couldn’t bring himself to care. Jasper was just so  _ cute _ , with his great smile and shiny black hair, and the way he used his hands to talk, (and those fucking  _ shorts).  _ Miller was working up the courage to ask him for his number, or to join him on a coffee break, or  _ something _ , but the idea of Monty kept holding him back. 

 

He and Monty weren’t exclusive; hell, they’re  _ dancing  _ around the idea of just meeting up in person. But Miller’d never been someone who talks to multiple people at once, weighing his options; that’s fine for some people, as long as everyone’s on board, but he didn’t work that way. He just couldn’t. And he didn’t know what to do about it. 

 

“Hey,” said Jasper, smile lighting up his face as he came in. “No Murphy today?” 

 

“Out sick,” Miller said. “Thank god. The temp agency might be sending us someone new next week,” he raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “Unless you want to step in?” 

 

Jasper laughed. “Nah, I’m good,” he said. “But maybe if the next temp doesn’t work out.” 

 

Miller’s lips quirked. “You like it?” He asked. “Being a messenger?” 

 

Jasper shrugged. “Keeps me in good shape,” he said, and it was all Miller could do to bite back a,  _ fuck, yeah, it does  _ comment. “And, well, to be honest I had a fast-paced office job for a few years before this-- it burnt me out, putting it mildly. I quit and wanted something completely different, and this is it. I don’t know how long I’ll continue to do it, but it’s good until I figure out what I really want. Bike rides help with thinking about that, too.” He grinned. “And my best friend works there, too, which is fun.” 

 

“That does help,” Miller said, wondering if this was the moment where he should ask Jasper to coffee, but he was already getting back on his bike, and the moment passed. 

 

Fuck. Miller rubbed his hand over his face as Jasper pedaled away with a wave. He really needed to get his life into order. 

 

* * *

 

**From Monty (4:28PM)**

_ Nate _

_ Is it the weekend yet?  _

_ I’m DYING  _

 

**From Miller (4:32PM)**

_ Only a half-hour left  _

_ Any weekend plans?  _

 

**From Monty (4:37PM)**

_ Not much _

_ My best friend Jasper and I  _

_ Are going to be hanging out  _

_ Might go see the new Power Rangers _

_ You?  _

 

Miller nearly spat out his lukewarm coffee. How many fucking Jaspers were there in the world, anyway? Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. He was in some fucking trouble. It would just be his life where he had a crush on two best friends. 

 

**From Miller (4:48 PM)**

_ Sounds fun _

_ Is Jasper the same friend who you said used to  _

_ Make you dress up as the red and blue rangers _

_ Every year for Halloween for like, ten years?  _

 

**From Monty (4:50PM)**

_ Yes, that’s him! Good memory _

_ Yeah, he’s been my best friend for ages  _

_ Feel like I haven’t talked about him a lot  _

_ Even though we work together and stuff  _

_ He’s been really busy with his new girlfriend _

_ So I haven’t seen him lately.  _

 

Best friends who work together. Jasper said it himself, too, so it Even though the thought that Jasper was unavailable should’ve made Miller’s life easier, it kind of punched him in the gut, anyway. He  _ liked  _ Jasper, and now he just felt guilt at the idea that the choice had been made for him because he liked Monty, too, and didn’t want to think of him as a back-up. 

 

At least he knew enough now not to flirt with Jasper anymore, and he could just focus on Monty and continue on as they were. Yeah. Good plan. 

 

**From Miller (5:02PM)**

_ It’s finally the weekend  _

_ Besides seeing the Power Rangers  _

_ Would you be interested in grabbing a drink?  _

 

**From Monty (5:05PM)**

_ Yeah _

_ I would like that  _

 

* * *

 

Miller saw him basically the moment he came in and it took every ounce of courage in him not to turn around and hightail it out of there. What were the odds that Jasper would be here as well? Did Monty _ tell  _ him? Oh, god, maybe Monty bailed and sent Jasper in his place. 

 

Now he was actually considering leaving, but Jasper already spotted him, and he looked as confused as Miller felt, even as his face lit up in a smile. 

 

“Miller, hey!” Jasper said, bounding up to him. “What a coincidence.” 

 

“Hey,” Miller said, hoping he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. “It is. What, uh, what are you up to tonight?” 

 

Jasper rubbed his hand at the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, meeting up with someone I’ve been talking to a few weeks now. Friend of a friend. I think it’s a date?” 

 

Miller froze. “What?” 

 

Jasper didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, he’s a friend of my friend Clarke. She said that we were totally each other’s types, and at first I didn’t quite believe her-- if you knew her, you’d know that her love life is a total shit show, but she was actually right! I, uh, I really like him, and--” he cuts himself off with a laugh. “And you really don’t care about that. Sorry.” 

 

“No,” Miller still didn’t know what the  _ fuck  _ was going on, but he needed to find out  _ now.  _ “No, I really do. I think you’re here for me. Maybe?” 

 

Jasper frowned. “ _ What _ ?” 

 

“I think so, anyway,” Miller shook his head. “I’m also here to meet someone who I’ve been texting for a while. Someone my friend Clarke set me up with.” 

 

Jasper’s gaping. “But I’m here for someone named Nate.”

 

“And I’m here for someone named Monty.” 

 

They both said at the same time, “That’s  _ me _ .” 

 

Jasper--  _ Monty  _ is laughing. “What did you think my name was?” 

 

“The first day you came into my office, your name tag read  _ Jasper _ ,” Miller said. “So I thought--”

 

“Oh my god,” Monty said. “I remember that day! I had to wear Jasper’s shirt because I spilled coffee on mine.” He gave Miller a questioning look. “But I thought-- your name--” 

 

“Nathan Miller,” Miller said with a smile. 

 

Monty laughed again. “This is ridiculous.” 

 

Miller gave him a sheepish smile. “I felt so guilty,” he said, “I thought--” 

 

“Me, too,” Monty said. “But, uh, now it’s kinda like all my dreams are coming true.” 

 

“Yeah,” Miller swallowed. “Same.” He cocked his head to the side. “Drink?” 

 

Monty leaned over and took Miller’s hand, threading his fingers with his. “There’s nothing I’d like more.” 


	5. if you're missing, come on home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going through my writings tag on Tumblr and came across this. Wrote it for Jenn ages ago, meant to be some beautiful post-canon reality.

Miller.  _Hates_. Chickens. 

He hates them. They’re loud and disgusting and more trouble than they’re worth, and yeah, they give him lots of eggs, but he can’t even bring himself to kill them for meat, and what is even the fucking point if he can’t have a good roast chicken every once in a while. What was he thinking? Stupid fucking random-ass dream he had when he was a stupid fucking kid. 

“You’re still a stupid fucking kid,” Bellamy tells him. 

“Everyone’s a kid to you, Old Man,” Miller snaps back. 

“You’re just jealous,” Bellamy says, completely unfazed (after ten years of friendship, none of Miller’s Moods faze him,) “that they don’t like you.” 

That isn’t necessarily true, in all fairness. The chickens like Miller just fine. He feeds them, takes care of them, makes sure they’re safe and warm and happy. 

They just like Monty better. 

“It’s not like  _you_  scoop their shit out or change their water or make sure their little house is secure,” Miller mutters as Monty practically skips in front of him, hands full of a bag of feed that he’d been tinkering with. Monty was in charge of a lot of the crops that were planted, and lately he’d taken to fiddling with the chicken feed, adjusting it to make it both tastier and more nutritious. Miller gets why his chickens like Monty better. 

“But I feed them good things,” Monty says, cooing at one of them, his favorite, a small dark-feathered bird that he named Babs, “and name them and sing to them. Of course they like me the most.” 

Miller rolls his eyes, glad that Monty’s back is turned so he can’t see the grin on his face. “It’s unfair, that’s what it is.” 

Monty turns back to Miller, a wide smile on his face, and Miller quickly morphs his face back into a more neutral expression. “If this is as unfair as life gets,” he says, arms spreading wide– Miller’s little cabin is by the shores of a clear lake, so clear that they reflect the mountains of the north within them. It’s a beautiful day, summer fading into fall, and their little group has been safe and happy and whole for five years now. “Then I’ll take it.” 

Miller rolls his eyes. “And you call  _me_  dramatic,” he says. 

* * *

When Miller was seventeen, all he wanted was a house on lake with his boyfriend, next to a field of corn and a hen house full of chickens. He wanted his friends and his father safe and happy. He wanted peace. 

For the first few years of life on Earth, he never actually believed he would get it. But he fought, anyway, even when things seemed hopeless, because he still had that dream to fight for; he still had  _people_  to fight for. 

Ten years later, more or less, he got what he wanted. It’s not a bad life.

“There you are,” comes a voice above him. Squinting against the sun, Miller turns. Monty is there, a hat outstretched to him. “I know you have dark skin, but you can still get sunburnt. And if you won’t wear the sun cream that Clarke made…” 

Miller scowls as he takes the hat and jams it on his head. “It smells like shit.” 

Monty swivels his head around in an exaggerated motion. “We’re literally standing in a field filled with shit from your hens. You’re kidding, right?” 

Miller doesn’t respond, he just keeps scowling as he weeds. 

Monty clears his throat. “The, uh, the hunting party comes back today,” he says. 

Miller freezes momentarily, but then keeps working. “And?” 

“Nothing,” Monty says. “I just– thought you’d like to know. Fresh meat for dinner and all. Something, to, um, look forward to.” A pause. “I can bring some to you if you want.” 

“I don’t need to be pitied, Monty,” Miller growls. “I’m fine. I’m over it.” 

Monty’s silence tells Miller what he needs to know; he doesn’t believe him. And why would he? Every time the hunting party comes back, Miller avoids the main settlement like a plague. 

And it’s not because of Bryan, not really. Or, well, it is, but not for the reasons Monty thinks. It’s been three years since they broke up, and it was– well, the ultimate end of the relationship was like putting an animal down; a small mercy to an otherwise long and painful end. They had been growing apart for months, if not years, Bryan taking on more and more opportunities to leave the Delinquents new camp site, and go on more trips, either hunting or displomatic or exploratory. They tried to hold on as long as they could, which really just made the whole thing worse. 

Seeing Bryan again doesn’t hurt him, like Monty thinks it does, not really. It’s like when he presses his fingers, even lightly, into an old bullet wound; it doesn’t bother him anymore in his day-to-day life, but actively pressing upon it always causes an uncomfortable, though momentarily, twinge of pain– tolerable, but should be avoided if possible. 

He and Bryan have both moved on– as far as Miller’s heard, through the grapevine, Bryan’s been getting pretty cozy with a scholar from Azgeda.  _He always did like ‘em smart,_  Miller thinks to himself with a smirk. And Miller, well, he had–

“How about this,” Monty says, once Miller’s standing and they’re walking slowly back to Miller’s cabin, “we go and grab dinner but instead of eating it there, we come back and eat it on your porch? We’ll be just in time for the sunset and everything.” 

Miller rolls his eyes. They’re swinging their arms as they walk, and their hands keep brushing. Miller’s fingers twitch with the instinct to latch on to Monty’s. “You’re just using me for my rocking chairs,” he mutters. “And my porch. And my view.” He has one of the best ones of everyone– all of the Delinquents got to pick exactly where they wanted to live, and Bryan had graciously let Miller have the cabin when they broke up, so Miller still had one of the best plots of land around. 

Monty shrugs. “What can I say?” He says. “Sometimes you gotta get away from it all every once in a while.” His cabin is in the main area of the settlement– their version of a ‘Main Street.’ He’s more involved in the running of things than Miller is, dividing his time between the medical center with Clarke, the electrical engineering tasks with Raven, and working on crops and food with Jasper. He’s everywhere, and Miller is around, too, still picking up the occasional guard shift, sometimes even filling in at the school for Bellamy, but otherwise he keeps to himself. 

“Fine,” Miller says, trying to be stern, “but food first.” 

Monty gives him an innocent look. “Food first,” he agrees solemnly. 

Luckily, the only person who they really run into while getting food is just Bellamy, and while he gives Miller A Look when Monty tells him of their plan, he thankfully doesn’t comment on it. Instead he says, “You busy this week?” 

Miller shrugs. His guard rotation ended a couple days prior, and he hasn’t picked another one up yet. There are definitely some advantages to having been one of the Original Delinquents. “No. What’s up?” 

“Interested in teaching this week?” Bellamy says. “Clarke’s going on a diplomatic mission to Flokru, and I wanted to go with her this time.” 

“Sure,” Miller says easily. He really does enjoy teaching. “You have a lesson plan for me?” 

“Topics and stuff,” Bellamy says. “Context for what we’ve already covered. But otherwise, I know you can handle it.” 

“Great,” Miller says. Bellamy is an easygoing teacher, and Miller is the same. Their styles mesh well. “Have fun.” He smirks. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, with another quick look at Monty. “You, too.” 

* * *

“This is nice,” Monty says. They’re sitting on Miller’s porch, which west, towards the lake, dinner finished as they watch the sunset. Monty and Jasper have been experimenting with growing grapes for wine, and he and Miller are drinking the first batch from the year before. “Don’t you think?” 

Miller hums a little in agreement. “Yeah,” he says. “It really is.” 

They’re quiet for a little longer, and Miller feels more content than he has in a long time, although, to be fair, he always feels good when he’s around Monty. Calmer, more centered. 

“Hey, Nate?” Monty asks. 

“Hmm?” 

“I… please don’t take this…” 

Miller raises an eyebrow. “Spit it out, Monty.” 

“Are you happy?” 

Miller stills. He has the feeling that it doesn’t matter how he answers; Monty’s already made up his mind. “Why do you ask that?” He says lowly. 

Monty bites his lip. “You just– you grow this corn, and you take care of these chickens, and you just don’t… you don’t seem happy happy. And you deserve that, you know?”  

Miller puts down his wine and rubs his temples. It’s not exactly surprising news, but it’s not something that he’s ever wanted to confront. How can he not be happy? He’s alive, his father is alive, his friends are alive… they’re safe and happy and secure. He should be happy, too. 

“This is what I wanted,” he says quietly. “The house, the chickens, the corn, Bryan… when things were so shitty for so long, that’s what kept me going. And Bryan’s gone, and that’s–whatever. I’m over it. But everything else? Now that I finally have it, and… I hate it. I  _hate_  it. And I don’t know what to do.” 

Monty looks at him with a small smile and a shrug. “Maybe you need to find a new dream,” he says. 

Miller swallows. Monty’s washed in gold light, making his eyes look amber. “Yeah?” He asks hoarsely. “I might need some help… figuring it out.” 

Monty reaches over and takes Miller’s hand, the action firm even if the look on his face is shy. Miller laces their fingers together. 

Monty’s smile grows. “I think I know just the right person for a job.” 

“Can’t think of anyone better,” Miller says. 

The day itself might be dying, but for the first time, the future looks bright.


	6. arm-wrestling au

Maybe it’s not the most sustainable form of entertainment, but it passes the time for a few minutes and they’re all drunk; plus, Miller just really loves beating people at arm wrestling.

The last guy, Riley, goes down in under ten seconds, and Miller, drunk and warm and cocky, makes a slow show of perusal across the crowd. “Any other takers?” He drawls.

A laugh just behind him. “I’ll take a crack at it.”

Miller stops himself from whipping around to look, but just barely, as slight, nerdy, cute-as-hell Monty Green comes around and plops into the seat opposite Miller. His hair is disheveled, his cheeks are flushed, and his dark eyes are crinkling at the corners as he smiles. Miller’s never loved anyone more.

If only he had the courage to tell him so.

“You sure?” Miller raises an eyebrow, trying to keep his cool, as the people around them laugh and jeer.

Monty smiles again, and there’s something mischievous and wicked about it that has Miller’s breath caught in his throat (combined with his pounding heart and it’ll be a miracle if he makes it out of this party alive.) “Don’t worry about me,” he assures him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“All right,” Miller grunts, elbow thunking on the table, arm bent, hand outstretched. “Let’s do this.”

Monty mimics him, and his long, pale fingers clasp Miller’s, his thumb feather-light as it sweeps over Miller’s knuckles before pressing into the back of his hand.

He has freckles on his fingers, Miller realizes dimly as Murphy counts down, and maybe he’s a coward, but he can’t quite make eye contact with the boy across from him.

“Go!”

Quick as lightning, Monty grips Miller’s hand, using their combined strength to propel him out of his seat so he can lean forward and plant a kiss right on Miller’s lips.

Before anything else– before Miller can analyze what the fuck is happening, before he can kiss Monty back– Monty pulls away and Miller feels his arm hit the table.

The crowd roars in surprise and laughter and Miller can only stare, shell-shocked, back at Monty, whose lips are curled into a victorious smirk, but his eyes are almost soft and sweet.

Miller must be really out of it, because he completely misses that their hands are still clasped together until Monty brings them both up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to Miller’s knuckles.

Miller smiles as Monty tugs him up from the table and away from the crowd. Losing has never felt so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a gif I'd seen of an old Disney short film where this huge guy is challenging people to arm wrestling contests and is challenged by a dainty-looking miss, who obviously beats him by kissing him, so DUH, I had to write a Minty-version!


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